| Emhyr paces along the southernmost shore of the Bay, blunt hooves digging harshly into the sand with each anxious step. In the distance he can see the Crossing, a dark gash across the horizon that split sea and sky. It calls to him, tugging at some deep thread within him that longs to be unraveled and strewn across the islands as his wandering legs carry him far and wide. It is time, he thinks, to leave the Bay behind. Perhaps it has been time for longer than he cares to admit. Some part of him thinks he should have left the Bay months ago, should have followed Kohelet into the sea when rumors of Fell’s atrocities first reached her ears. But for some reason still unknown to him he has stayed rooted in place, watching detachedly as the seasons slip by.
No longer, he thinks with a harsh snort, breath dissipating in a pale cloud from his coal-black nostrils. With a kick he launches himself into the sea, not so much as a glance tossed over his shoulder as he departs from his childhood home. For what feels like hours he kicks and thrashes in the water, his legs harboring a dull ache by the time he pulls himself ashore on the Crossing. A skeletal forest stretches out before him, the mid-morning sun illuminating each bare bony branch. Emhyr begins to wind through the forest in a southerly path, the sun his guide as he slinks between the trees. As the sun reaches its peak in the sky, the ocean rises to meet Emhyr once more. He pauses here to peer out at what must be Atlantis, the verdant green streak drawing his gaze and tugging on that unraveling thread inside of him. He has heard about Atlantis - about its bountiful jungles full of exotic flowers and fruits, of its near year-round warmth and sunshine, how it is a veritable paradise waiting to be explored. It sounds so unlike the harsh frost-bitten tundras of Tinuvel. Seemingly without thought Emhyr pushes himself back into the churning sea. The first thing he takes notice of when he pulls himself ashore on Atlantis is the warmth. Despite the late season the air here is oppressive in its humidity, a thick blanket of heat hanging over the jungle. The water clinging to his coat refuses to evaporate, leaving a wet trail behind him as he begins to amble his way into the jungle, greedily drinking in each sight and sound as he goes. He is not oblivious to the fresh scent markers that he passes as he wanders deeper into the island, but chooses to ignore it in favor of satiating his own wanderlust. Surely whoever lives here won’t mind a brief passing through. So he continues boldly forward, pushing onward and into Paradise. | two - stallion - mixed breed - fell x kohelet |